Sunday, 25 September 2011

Jennospot
35 A Job for
Daniel

It's a
while since Oi told yew anyfink about Dummy. Yew'd be 'ard put to it ter
imagine as 'ow anybody would really want ter give 'im a proper job, but
surprise, surprise, that's exac'ly wot 'appens in "Gang Spies". It
turns out ter be real important too. This is 'ow Peter St John tells it, but Oi
ain't goin' ter say anymore 'ere, 'cos the whole book is out on Amazon Kindle now:

"Sometimes
I am happy to meet by chance, in the street, people I know: sometimes I'm not. This
afternoon, I was extremely happy to encounter Dummy on the footbridge over the
river.

He
was coming from the direction of the railway. He was wearing a half-way
respectable suit for a change, and his hair and his beard were less of a matted
jungle than usual. I greeted him.

‘Hallo
Daniel,’ ‘You're looking very smart and dapper today. Where are you off to in
your Sunday best?’

‘That's
right Daniel. So what's the occasion this time? Whatever it is, you're looking
very chipper about it.’

‘Oi
jus' come from a-talkin' with Mr Trundle at 'is 'ouse by the station. 'Im wot
does the special constabulary. With 'im, an' with an army orficer all done up
in khaki an' shiny leather belts. Arrgh— 'ee 'ad all them coloured ribbons
across 'is chest’ too— loike 'ee'd fallen on 'is face in Harry Earthy's paint
shop.’

‘Oh
Daniel— don't tell me you've joined up and that you're going away.’

‘Nay
Peter lad. T'aint loikly they'd take ol' Dan'l in the proper army, what with
his goitre an all. Besides, it's the young uns wot they be a-wantin'. Nay— they
be a-wantin' ol' Dan'l fer the gardenin' and handyman work up at the Manor
where Oi used ter work with my dad when Oi were jus' a nipper.’

‘You
know the Manor then?’

‘Loike
the inside o' moi shed up the allotments. Moi dad an' me, we did all them
waterworks fer the fountains an' the ponds afore the Great War broke out.
Arrgh— the army bloke with all them colours on 'is chest, were roight
interested in that 'ee were. Said as 'ow they'd be needin' lots o' water and
wanted all that sort o' thing put in order at the Manor.’

‘But
what about your vegetable business, Daniel? How will you look after that and
the Manor at the same time?’

Daniel
put a finger alongside his nose and winked at me with his head on one side.

‘Arrgh,
Peter lad— that's the best on it, see. They only wanted ol' Dan'l ter go ter
the Manor three days a week. Loike that, 'ee'd 'ave toime fer the vegetables
an' all.’

‘So
you accepted the job.’

‘Well
not at first Oi didn't. They said as 'ow they 'ad others wot they wanted ter
talk to. They said as 'ow Oi 'ad ter agree ter certain conditions wot 'ad ter
do with not divulgeratin' anythin' wot Oi saw or 'eard ter other people. The
army bloke put a paper in front o' me an' 'ee said as 'ow, if'nol' Dan'l took the job, 'ee 'ad ter do wot
was written on it.’

‘The
army bloke— 'ee looked roight surprised when Oi told 'im. "You're an
alphabet?” 'ee said. Well, lots o' people give all sorts o' noimes ter poor ol'
Dan'l, but it were the very first toime that anyone called him an alphabet. Ol'
Dan'l be a-reckonin' that by roights, 'ee be everythin' 'cept an alphabet. But
the army bloke seemed roight chuffed over it. “You're the ideal candidate”, 'ee
says. “You're hired”, 'ee says. An' 'ee an' Mr Trundle stood up and shook ol'
Dan'l by the 'and.’

‘Let
me shake your hand too, Daniel. Congratulations. When the WLACollege
came here, I thought that maybe, with your knowledge of vegetables, you’d get a
job at The Old Vicarage. I never imagined the army would take you on at their
new Rest Centre.’

‘Arrgh—
wouldn't moi ol' dad be 'mazed. 'Ee were 'ead vegetable gardner up at the Manor. An now ol' Dan'l's
'ead of the 'ole bloomin' lot!’

Sunday, 11 September 2011

Jennospot
36 New Asphalt

"Gang
Spies 'as jus' come out on Amazon Kindle, so terday Oi'm goin' ter give yew a
little bit from that cockeyed story.Yew
know all them wartime posters wot they put up warnin' everybody about spies? They've
got slogans on 'em loike "careless talk costs lives" or "walls
'ave ears". An' then there's that Tommy Handley show on the wireless
called ITMA, wot 'as Funf the spy. Well we reckoned as 'ow there was a whole
nest o' spies in Widdlin'ton; so we set out ter troi ter catch 'em. Only it
din't turn out exac'ly as 'ow we expected. Cripes, it were excitin' though,
even if'n it did start sorta ordin'ry loike, wiv a cart race:

"I
went down the garden to fetch my cart Lightning from under the shed.

As
I started back towards Roy's
house, I spotted Brian coming towards me. ‘What's up Peter?’ he asked.

‘They've
finished the asphalt, down as far as the Avenue,’ I said. ‘I'm going up to the
Layers with Roy
to see what they've done.’

Roy
came out of his gate towing Sprinter. ‘We're taking our carts to race back
down. Want to join in?’

‘Great,’
said Brian. ‘I'll go and get Larkspur.’

Five
minutes later we were trudging up Layers
Lane towing our carts.

‘Let's
call on Dismal,’ I proposed. ‘See if he can come out with his Droopy.’

We
didn't need to call on him. He was already leaning over his gate staring into
the Lane. He glanced up as we approached, and then went back to staring at the new
asphalt.

‘Crumbs—
it's all black,’ he grumbled.

‘What
do you expect?’ said Roy.

‘It's
asphalt,’ I said.

‘D'you
want pink asphalt?’ asked Brian.

‘Never
mind the colour: it stinks,’ said Dismal.

‘Not
for long,’ I said.

‘I
could smell it all night,’ said Dismal.

‘Didn't
you sleep then?’ asked Roy.

‘I
could smell it in my sleep. It stinks.’

‘So
do you,’ said Brian pleasantly.

‘Then
I'm not the only one.’

‘Shut
up you two,’ said Roy.
‘It's too early for compliments. D'you want to come out racing with your
Droopy?’

‘Stupid
name for a cart,’ said Brian.

‘Not
as stupid as Larkspur,’ retorted Dismal.

‘Larkspur
can run rings around your Droopy, any old day,’ said Brian.

‘You
think?’ said Dismal.

‘I
know,’ said Brian.

‘Aw
shut up big-head Brian,’ said Dismal.

‘Shut
up both of you,’ said Roy.
‘Are you coming out or aren't you? We can race down the Mountain Glide and then
we'll see who's got the best cart.’